DVANDOM _____ ______ _____ _______ THE CENTURY PACT PART 3 of 12 [ ]__ [ ] [] [ ]__)) [ ] ` [ ]__ #75 - "Hot Tin Cat On A Roof" [ ] [ ] [] [ ] \\ [ ] [ ] copyright 1996 Dave Van Domelen [_] [_]__[] [_] \\ [_]___/ [_]____ -------]==+ <*> +==[------- [cover shows a silhouetted figure outlined in flickers of green, in a menacing pose as various Dvandom Forcers look on in shock. Cover copy proclaims, "LOOK WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN!" In honor of nothing in particular, the top of the cover has go-go checks.] "Y'know, there WAS a time when all I ever saw in my line a work was ordinary no-name thugs, mooks and killers," the guard said as he rocked slightly back and forth in the back of the transfer van. He hoped they hit I-94 soon, the county highway they were on was making him a little nauseous. "But NO, now we have all these net.heroes and net.villains... that's you, shorty...running around and making more work for guys like me." His prisoner said nothing. Of course, he couldn't say anything... his cyborg body was on minimal power, just enough to keep him alive and awake, but not enough for him to speak. Not that this lout of a guard deserved a response from Cornelius Van Runt, the Coppermane. He did wish his hearing wasn't active, however, so he wouldn't have to listen to the droning idiot. "Y'ask me, we should take the whole LOT of you an' stuff you down a volcano or something. Then maybe things'd be normal for a change," the guard continued. The speaker in the compartment hissed to life. "Hey, Dex, grab hold of something," came the voice of the driver. "What's up?" the guard asked into the microphone on the wall. "There's some cats in the road. They're not getting out of the way, it may be some sort of jailbreak attempt." Dexter turned to Coppermane, "So, hired a cat trainer to break you out if you got caught? That's LAME, man. And t'think you once ran Sig.ago. How the mighty have...." ERRRRNT! The metal of the floor panels started to scream in protest as something tore at it. "Max, what the HELL(TM) was that?" Dex shouted. "Crud, one of them must've gotten caught in the drive shaft," the driver called back. "Er, I don't think so," Dex replied, pulling up the CHOOM cannon he'd been issued and pointing the square barrel at the floor. "Something's ripping its way in here!" The van began to swerve wildly, and Dex grabbed at his seatbelt for support. "Max, what's...?" "Mj30W!" came the howl over the speaker. "What in the..." Dex whispered in shock. Then the floor burst open and a orange and brown blur shot through the hole and straight at Dex's face. He pulled the trigger of his cannon more on reflex than anything else, the blast blowing a new hole in the side of the van just before the prison transport flew off the road and slammed into a tree. There was a pause as the van came to a final stop on its side, then silence save for a low mewling in the background. The tabby disengaged itself from the guard's bleeding and unconscious form and walked over to Coppermane. Sitting down, it regarded him with a curious "Mj30W?" before starting to lick the blood from its paws. Coppermane furrowed his brow in confusion, one of the few things he *could* do in his current state. Cats were just not Goth's style. The immortal capo was more of a dog person. It came from being raised by wolves. Then the cat stopped cleaning itself and sat back in an alert posture, its head cocked in an almost human way. "Mister Van Runt," came a voice from the cat. "I'm prepared to make you an offer of alliance which could get you everything you want...your returned freedom, power, vengeance on your enemies and the fall of Queen Enterprises." Coppermane knew that voice. It was one of DeFacto's lieutenants, one of the pair who threw that robot onto his home and nearly killed him. He closed his eyes and wished he could turn away in disgust. "Ah, but of course, you have no power to respond. A moment." The soft sound of a cat padding on metal whispered in Coppermane's ears. Suddenly he felt himself coming up to full power. It was like a great fatigue had been lifted from his shoulders. Of course, he still had no limbs, but at least now he could speak. "You can go to Hell(TM), metal man," he spat. "Perhaps," replied the eerily disembodied voice. "But that's not where I wish to go, nor do you. I take it you recognize me, yes? Well, I've been left out to dry as badly as you have, Mr. Van Runt. Or should I call you Coppermane now?" "You can call me a taxi," was the bitter reply. "Well, I had something like that in mind," Darkheart's voice purred as a quartet of ginger-colored cats entered the van through various holes. "As a show of good faith, I will complete this breakout and bring you to one of our installations, where we will repair you. And if you agree to an alliance, we can even augment your power." The cats extruded wires and cables from their bodies, connecting in two pairs and attaching themselves to his hips. Shakily, Coppermane found himself standing on two furry legs. "What?" he gasped. "A sample of our recent advances in nanotechnological alteration of organic lifeforms. While lacking in the versatility of, say, Kopikat, our creations do have their uses. These cats were specifically created to act as your legs, for example, while the one I am speaking through was designed to break through armor plate, disable normal humans and act as my eyes and ears. Now, come along," Darkheart chided, and Coppermane had no choice but to go where his legs led him. The tabby clawed through the hinges of one door, allowing the unsteady Coppermane to exit the van. "Goth, this is the boss," Coppermane sub-vocalized over his shielded communications circuit now that it was active again. "I've been broken out by a third party, but follow my signal. I may need to be broken out of my breakout...." -------]==+ <*> +==[------- [Interlude: Impressive RACCelestial Complex, somewhere between the ticks of the clock.] //THE BALANCE BETWEEN WORKLOAD AND MUDD HAS BEEN RESTORED, WHY SHOULD WE TAKE ANY ACTION?// asked one of the gigantic cosmic beings in a voice that would have driven a mortal mad to hear the merest whisper of. \\THE IMBALANCE WAS MERELY A SYMPTOM OF THE ASSAULT ON REALITY... THE RESULT OF THE PREVIOUS GUARDIAN OF THE BALANCE BEING DISTRACTED FROM HIS DUTIES. THE THREAT REMAINS STILL,\\ boomed another. >>LET THE MORTALS STEW IN THEIR OWN SPAM, I SAY. THIS NEW REALITY WAS ILL-ADVISED TO BEGIN WITH,<< scowled a third. >>I SEE NO REASON TO INTERVENE.<< \\YET INTERVENE WE MUST. WE APPROVED THE CREATION OF THIS WORLD, AND HAVE A RESPONSIBILITY TO PROTECT IT WHEN THE INHABITANTS CANNOT DO SO. DO YOU FORGET THAT THE AOLLENIUM IS UPON US? THE HORDES WILL SOON HAVE UNLIMITED ACCESS TO THE NET.REALITIES. THE TIME TO SHORE UP THE BULWARKS IS BEFORE THE WAVE CRASHES, NOT AFTER.\\ >>PERHAPS. BUT PERHAPS THE WAVE WILL WASH AWAY THE FLAWED OLD WORLD AND MAKE IT EASIER TO CREATE A NEW ONE.<< //NO...OUR PACT IS TO PRESERVE, NOT RECREATE. I AGREE, EAGALON...IN LIGHT OF COMING EVENTS, WE HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO INVOKE THE LIVING MODERATOR.// \\THEN LET US GATHER OUR POWERS AND SEND THE CALL....\\ -------]==+ <*> +==[------- The doorbell rang. "Just a minute," Glory called out, putting down her half-finished coffee and shrugging into her sweater. Winter was hitting early this year, and the front hall of her house was uncomfortably drafty. Time to get out the weatherstripping, she noted to herself for the fifth time that week as she walked to the door. "This had better not be a salesman," she muttered darkly under her breath. "Hello?" No one was visible in the storm door's windows. If she didn't just pick up a copy at work, she'd suspect the paperboy, maybe it was some "hang the pack of ads on the door" thing. Too early in the day for ding-dong-ditch. Then she noticed it wasn't drafty. "Odd," she said, looking around. "Weatherstripping?" "Happy holidays!" said Doug, appearing suddenly in front of her in a short burst of warm air. "I let myself in, hope you don't mind. Oh, and I fixed the draft while I was waiting." Glory put her hand to her chest in surprise. "It's been a while since I had to deal with sudden appearances.... Happy holidays yourself, nephew! Come here!" she reached out to hug him, but he pulled back. "What's wrong?" "Aunt Glory, there's something I really have to tell you. I've been putting it off, but last night I had one of those 'facing your mortality' experiences, so I decided I had to tell you now." "I get the impression this is one of those things where I'll want to be sitting down, not to mention where I'll want a drink. Come on, I left half a pot of coffee in the kitchen, we can talk there." -------]==+ <*> +==[------- Coppermane found himself being walked a short distance to a grove of trees, just now losing the last of its brilliant Fall colors. It was one of the things one got used to, living in the Looniverse...seasons had this tendency to change overnight. It was the height of Autumn when he attacked the Dvandom Force HQ last night, now here it was coming up on Winter. Still, in a world where former crimelords in cyborg bodies can be broken out of prison transport by nanotechnologically altered cats, a momentary lapse of season is barely worth noticing. Hidden among the trees was a windowless VTOL craft of some sort. It looked like a helicopter, but there was no way a real helicopter could have landed among those trees...the propeller was probably just camoflage so the vehicle could pass without notice in populated areas. "Vinnie, this is the boss. I'm about to enter a vehicle." Nothing. "Vinnie?" A new voice came over his comlink. Darkheart's voice. "Sorry, Mr. Van Runt, but we do need to keep the location of our headquarters secret for now. As a result, we're jamming your communications and inertial guidance systems. Take heart! If we planned to kill you on refusal of our offer, we wouldn't care if you could figure out where you were going, would we?" Coppermane scowled as his borrowed limbs walked him into the vehicle. Once inside, he couldn't see anything outside, nor could he access systems that told him, for example, which way north was. He was cut off completely. After several moments, he realized that he couldn't even tell if the vehicle was moving...either the inside was so well insulated from inertia and noise that it was impossible to tell, or the cats which had bonded to his systems were shutting off his sensory inputs to prevent him from getting any clues. For all he knew, the base could be under the trees, and the vehicle a dodge. "Could I at least have a newspaper to read while I wait?" he asked, a bit of a snarl creeping into his voice. "Oh, the VTOL is faster than it looks. You'll be here before you could check the sports scores. Oh, the Green.Bak Packets clinched the division title...hope you're not too big of a Sig.ago Warez fan." -------]==+ <*> +==[------- "Okay," Glory started as she sat down to her refilled cup of coffee, "what's the big news that has you looking like you expect me to come after you with a knife?" "I look like that?" "More or less. It's the same look I see from reporters when they're about to tell me why they missed a deadline. So spill." "Well...it has to do with the guy using the name Alan Berry." "Oh?" Glory's expression perked up. "I dug for months and couldn't do more than prove he wasn't the real Alan Berry...didn't help that since he worked on the police computers he could alter his records at will. It was almost as if he knew more about the systems than the people who built them." "Yeah, well, that's because he was from the future." Glory nearly dropped her mug. "Let me get this straight. You're trying to tell me that...." "Yes, I'm Alan Berry. That's why we look so much alike, why he seemed to know so much about what would happen, everything. It's a confusing story, but I got thrown back in time by a sort of evil twin who lived in my head, part of his plot to kick me out of our body so he could take over [A more-or-less accurate summary of Dvandom Force #71 - Ed, glad to be getting work again.]. I spent the next year and a half living through a life I remembered from the outside, knowing the day on which I'd probably die." "And you didn't think to tell me this back then?" Glory said perhaps too calmly. "I couldn't! It was all part of a cycle that I didn't dare break, because of the nature of the situation that got me stuck back in time. Last time we changed the past when dealing with this guy, Master Workload, all sorts of people ended up dying because of it. I couldn't take the risk and try to fix things I thought had once gone wrong, and that included not telling you. I was walking a tightrope...I knew we had to be close, since I remembered it from when I was a kid, but I also knew that the closer we got then, the more it would hurt you when I finally told you what I'd found out." "Well, that certainly explains a lot of things. Once I found out 'Alan Berry' was Macroman, I was able to figure out *how* some of those odd 'chance' events happened to spoil romantic moments or distract me when I was trying to break your shell, but I hadn't been able to figure out *why* they happened. It's not like you didn't obviously care for me, now I know you cared for me in a family way." Doug cocked his head. "You're certainly taking this more calmly than I expected." "Doug...it's been, what, a few weeks, maybe months since you were in the role of Alan Berry? It's still fresh in your mind, that young and eager woman who you had to fend off without driving off. For me it's been over *fifteen years.* As much as...you...meant to me then, it's just a faded, wistful memory of what might have been. It does feel a little strange to start linking together my feelings for Alan and my feelings for you, but I can cope," she grinned. Doug snorted. "This must be how Kat feels. Time travel can really screw up interpersonal relations, can't it? One person remembers the love, hate or whatever like it was yesterday...and it might have BEEN yesterday... and the other has had months or years to forget." "You and Kat? Something going on there I should know about?" "Probably, but it's an even longer story, and unless the City Desk can run itself, you probably don't have time to hear it before work," Doug noted. "True enough. But I'll expect you on Christmas Eve unless you're saving the world...and we can talk about it then." "It's a date," Doug smirked, then was gone in a flash. Glory spent a moment looking at the empty chair, smiled, sighed and got up to get ready for work. -------]==+ <*> +==[------- "Of course, these aren't exactly like your old limbs, your pet cyberneticist was careful enough to keep his plans on an isolated system. And your originals are still back at the Dvandom Force HQ," Darkheart noted as Coppermane lay in the repair bed. "But our repair systems are quite good at matching existing look-and-feel, so you shouldn't have any trouble with these parts." "How will I deactivate the safeguards?" Coppermane asked. "Safeguards? There are no safeguards. Mister Van Runt...your body may be the finest example of cybernetic technology the world has to offer, and it is in the top ten as far as I know, but MY body is the product of nanotechnology centuries in advance of this era. If I had to, I could defeat you even more easily than Kopikat did. In fact, if we could be certain of neutralizing Lynk's mystic powers, my partner and I could probably defeat Dvandom Force in a fair fight." "Then why don't you?" "Because our eventual goals are much larger than that. I have no illusions of being able to defeat entities like, say, Kid Kirby or the more mystically-inclined Alt.Riders in a fair fight...and our goals would certainly lead to conflict with such forces." "Let me guess," Coppermane grinned sardonically, "the first step is to amass an army of powerful followers, of which I have the honor of being the first? What makes you think I would follow you in the first place?" "Because you're not an idiot. You don't let your grudges get in the way of power. What small part my associate and I played in your setbacks is not enough to outweigh the benefits we offer you. We seek nothing less than to rule the world by the end of this century. We may even be able to accomplish this sooner if things work out in our favor early on. And part of doing this will be the utter destruction of all other claimants on world power...like the Queen Bee." "Like you said, I'm not an idiot. I'm not going to be suckered into this plan just for a shot at the Queen Bee...I'm perfectly capable of taking care of her myself," Coppermane shot back as the repair waldos finished testing the connections on his left arm. "True. I prefer to think of that part of the deal as icing, myself. Fine...here it is, laid out for you. The risks: aside from aligning with a large faction that is more likely to attract net.hero attention, the nanotechnological process we will use on you has not been tested on humans yet. You make the ideal subject because you've already gotten used to mechanical interfaces for most of your sensory input, and will be less likely to go mad. Also, since so little of you remains organic, there will be less chance of physical complications. The benefits: you will be more powerful than before, and more importantly, your body will be able to repair itself from raw materials in the vicinity. You will be on the winning side if we are victorious, and you may very well be able to lose yourself between the cracks if we are not victorious. Much like my partner and I did in the wake of DeFacto's defeat. You will command a small army of altered humans once the process is proven. "Come, your repairs are finished, I can show you some of your prospective troops." "Your deal sounds too good to be true, which means there's got to be more on the bad side," Coppermane snarled as he stood and followed Darkheart. "What, being a guinea pig for a potentially fatal process isn't enough of a down side? You must have been involved in some very...interesting... deals as boss of Sig.ago," Darkheart chuckled. "Still, in all seriousness, there's one more reason we're eager to have you as our first subject and not one of these other people," he opened the door to a small gallery of tubes. In each tube was an unconscious figure, with small probes and wires analyzing their vital functions. "And that is?" "If everything is successful and you decide to leave us anyway, at least we know you will be working on things that help us. Fighting Dvandom Force, working for the downfall of the Queen Bee...this sort of thing is good for us in the short run. One of these others might decide to go off on a path that requires us to shut him down immediately, so it would be good to have your help if that's needed. If you refuse or go rogue, we pick the next best prospect, and so on." "Fine. I'll...say, what's that green flicker over there? The man in that tube looks familiar...." Darkheart walked over to the tube and inspected the readings. "His name is Charlie Risk, you may have known him during his career as an adventure hero. These readings make no sense...." Mentally, then, Darkheart projected to Steelwind, ++What the hell(tm) do you think you're doing? Risk's readings show he's manifesting powers already! Are you trying to impress Coppermane with a demonstration or something?++ --Hey, not me, bud. I'm not even working on the rubetubes. Maybe Risk is having himself an origin...I'll pump in more morph gas just in case.-- "Ah, it seems that some of the effects of Mr. Risk's withdrawal from alcohol are interfering with the progress of the instruments," Darkheart lied. "Let's...." Darkheart barely had time to dive for the floor as green beams of power lanced out of the tube. Coppermane joined him milliseconds later. "This the kind of side-effects you were talking about?" "No!" Darkheart hissed. "He hasn't even had the nanotech introduced yet! He must be having an Origin or something...head for the door, we'll have to seal off the room. Damn!" The two scuttled across the floor in a disturbingly inhuman manner, the door sealing behind them as the room filled with anaesthetic gas. Darkheart stood and brushed the bits of plexiglass off his suit. "Steelwind, is he under control?" >>Barely,<< came the voice over the intercom. "What now, oh mighty conqueror?" Coppermane sneered. "Mr. Risk was recruited as a 'Berserker,' someone we could unleash to kill net.heroes without being traced back to us. He thinks we're a pair of former action heroes out to bring back the heyday of the non-powered adventurer. All we need to do is release him properly and let him go to work. He doesn't have to know we weren't responsible for his powers." >>Dirk, you'll wanna see these readings I'm getting,<< Steelwind said over the speaker so Coppermane could hear. Darkheart paused for a moment and mentally linked to the appropriate system. "Oh, yes. This will work QUITE nicely indeed. He'll be a better distraction than I could have hoped...." -------]==+ <*> +==[------- "Guys, come to the TV room pronto!" came Sidewinder's voice over the house's intercom system. "There's something you need to see on the news!" Moments later, everyone had assembled while Sidewinder rewound the tape he had in the VCR. Well, everyone but the VAXX, who was outside trying to catch snowflakes on his monitor screen. "More news on Coppermane's breakout?" Squidman asked, obviously irritated that the man who had attacked them just the night before was already out. "Worse," Sidewinder replied, hitting PLAY. "Watch." "...Wolf Bit.zer, here on location in Onyx City, somewhere in the Paci.fanfic Northwest, where the conference on economic development has just been interrupted by an attack by a net.villain claiming to be Acton Lord." "Ohhhhhhh cheese," Stan exhaled. "Just now, Onyx City's local net.hero has arrived on the scene, and is trying to subdue the man claiming to be Acton Lord with what looks like a stream of glowing liquid. Wait, I'm informed the hero's name is Barman, wielder of the Cosmic Tap, and he's using cosmically-charged beer in an attempt to take the fight out of the villain." The camera zoomed in on the fight, just as Barman's Beer Goggles were knocked askew by a glancing power bolt. The sound crackled on, someone had apparently pointed a parabolic mike at the fight. "...a JOKE, Barman!" Acton Lord shouted. "Your power is so pitiful it hardly corrupts at all, you glorified barfly...so let's see what we can do about that!" Barman reeled back as his Cosmic Tap started to glow more brightly in his hands. "What...?" Before he could react, it sprayed forth a sudsy stream of such force that he flew back out of the picture before the cameraman could adjust the zoom. The image wobbled around for a few seconds before pulling back with Acton Lord in the center. "Let all know that this city is now and forever the domain of... ACTON LORD!" Then, with a crackle of green energy, the image went to static. The screen flickered back to the NNN studios, where the anchor looked composed in that professionally detached from reality way. "We seem to have lost our signal in Onyx City, but will bring you updates on this situation as they become available. This is Bob Kiwi, for Net.News Network." The screen went blue as the taped segment ended. "That's not the real Acton Lord, is it?" Kid Pocky asked. "I thought he had brown hair." Squidman rubbed his eyes in weariness, anticipating a long night. "No, that's Charlie Risk, the Human Decoy. Haven't seen him around since the Flame Wars...thought he was dead. Why would he pretend to be Acton Lord?" "Why would someone pretend to be the Warlord?" Macroman countered. "Who says Risk isn't the new heir to the Corruption Force? Maybe our Acton Lord really did disappear for good." "Whatever the reason, we need to get to Onyx City and check this out... before half the LNH descends on the place." -------]==+ <*> +==[------- //IT IS DONE. LET THERE BE MODERATION!// =========================================================================== Author's Notes: "What the heck is 'Mj30W?'" you ask. Well, you ask this if you're lucky enough not to have been reading one of the newsgroups hit by the dreaded Meow Meow Gang. One or more pathetic wankers out to destroy newsgroups by flooding them with cascades of "Meow"ing. Of course, to get past killfiles, they forge addresses (often in the names of people they don't like) and replace "meow" with B1FFisms like "Mj30W" or big ugly ASCII meows. Ask Eagle about them some time. He'll happily drop anvils on you for mentioning them. }-> Anyway, once I decided to mock them in this story, I realized it'd be best to wait until after moderation was in place, just in case, yes? As far as I know, everything else in this issue should be understandable by reading previous issues. Queen Bee belongs to Jamas Enright, as do the Alt.Riders. Kid Kirby belongs to Jameel "MegaBee" alKhafiz. And the anvil rapidly falling on me belongs to Mike Escutia, fan of Starman (and Opal City), a token of his appreciation for my Barman character no doubt.